


Lord of The Rings: The Dark Lord Returns

by LittleMissEightySixed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissEightySixed/pseuds/LittleMissEightySixed
Summary: This was for Strictly Dramione's Movie Fest. My prompt was Lord of The Rings with a Dramione twist... I hope you enjoy! xx





	Lord of The Rings: The Dark Lord Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarena/gifts), [ElleMalfoy65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleMalfoy65/gifts), [Slytherinmomma88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherinmomma88/gifts).



**_Hogsmeade, The Shire_ **

_     Six Months Previous _

_      ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞ _

 

When Minerva Baggins of Bag End announced that she would shortly be celebrating her eleventy-first birthday with a party of such magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hogsmeade. 

 

Minerva was a well off hobbit with riches that far surpassed any other resident in Hogsmeade. The Baggins family had always been more  _ fortunate  _ than others with their ownership of Bag-End, a  _ much _ larger hobbit hole than the rest of the villagers were accustomed to. Though the fortune that the villagers spoke of was not from the family, no, the fortune they spoke of was that which she acquired from her long absence and  _ mysterious _ return some 60 years previous.

 

It had long been rumoured that there were tunnels beneath the hill at Bag End, stuffed to the brim with treasures from wherever Minerva had gone in her absence. Another rather _peculiar_ thing the villagers of Hogsmeade had come to notice was the seemingly youthful hue Minerva continued to have, even well into her 90’s. Many of the people shook their heads in envy, watching on as the woman contained both unchanging looks at 99 as if she were 50, to the seemingly inexhaustible wealth that she owned. Though once she started to distribute some of _said_ _wealth_ the neighboring hobbits began not to mind as much.   

 

However, though the villagers were all kind to Minerva (for the most part) she did not find herself worried over whether they accepted her or not. No, she was fine on her own; or rather, she  _ was _ . That was before she met the one hobbit that would change her existence for the better. The young thing that came into her life rather unexpected but proved that surprises in life truly are some of the most magical things.

 

Hermione Granger-Baggins came to Hogsmeade when she was a young thing; not more than eleven or twelve at the time. The girl had lost her parents in a boating accident that same year. Tragic, truly. She was set to move in with the Umbucks of Umbridge (Wendell Baggin’s side of the family) but when Minerva heard that  _ that  _ was where the child, (her brother’s daughter) was to go, she couldn’t let that happen. For the Umbuck-Bagginses company was something she would not wish upon even her  _ worst  _ enemy. 

 

What started out as a charity case quickly turned into something else all together. For the young Granger-Baggins girl had grown on the woman. Hermione had a thirst for knowledge that could only be rivaled by Minerva’s own. Knowledge was something greatly celebrated in Bag End, and it was the perfect environment to grow up in. 

 

The two hobbit women had another thing in common, perhaps one that proved just how  _ right  _ they were for each other; for they both shared the same birthday. Each year they had found themselves falling into the same routine of throwing lavish parties to celebrate the coming year together. This birthday however would be even  **_more_ ** special. This party would not just be a celebration for a hobbit reaching their eleventy-first birthday, this would also be a party to celebrate a young lady hobbit’s coming of age, for Hermione would finally be thirty-three, leaving behind the troublesome twenties affectionately dubbed “tweens”. 

 

Sitting perched on a high bench leaning over her desk, Minerva flipped through the now filled parchment that lay bound in it’s leather casing. The story she had struggled with for so long, the story that  _ demanded _ to be written was finally complete. 

 

The crinkled edges of the pages folded beneath her fingers with each turn. The book held within its leather binding the  _ true  _ reason she had disappeared all those years ago. The reason she had gone on a rather unexpected journey (with a group of beings that were the true definition of misfits) only to return months later to her fellow gentlehobbits who acted as if the atrocious acts and senseless death of those she had grown to view as her  **friends** she had endured while away  _ never  _ happened. 

 

The familiar itch from inside Minerva’s pocket beckoned her. The seemingly mundane object that lay there was mocking her.  **_Take me out, you know you want to._ **

 

_ “No need,”  _ She shook her head, trying her best not to think of the burning coming from her trousers side.

 

**_Minerva… Check… Make sure you haven’t_ ** **_lost_ ** **_it…_ **

 

“I  **do not** lose  _ anything _ !” Minerva shook her head, growling to no one in particular. 

 

The urge however  _ continued _ to build.  

 

The unrelenting pangs of paranoia continued to assault the elder hobbit. Shoving away the booklet that moments before had been the object of her affection, Minerva looked down towards her feet, contemplating whether she should give in to temptation. 

 

Gathering her strength (what little of it she had left) she reached into her other pocket, withdrawing her watch. Staring down at the time she felt her eyes bulge and heartbeat quicken, “It is nearly time for Elevenses!” Dropping the watch back into its pocket she whipped around, in search of the girl so they could eat. 

 

In her haste to search for Hermione, Minerva’s hand grazed the other pocket. Knocking into the table to her left she froze. 

 

_ No… No, no, no… _

 

Patting at her trousers side she desperately pawed at the fabric. Slipping her hands beneath the corduroy confines she felt around for the familiar metal piece. 

 

**_Where is it?_ **

 

That same hissing voice spoke low into her ear, mocking her. Shaking away the taunting voice, Minerva looked frantically around the room. Lifting discarded papers and shifting the few pieces of furniture that filled her study she felt the panic within her rise,  _ it wasn’t here _ . 

 

“HERMIONE!” She yelled for her niece, for perhaps the young hobbit picked it up by mistake? Minerva could only hope.

 

The room had been turned completely upside down; the easel (and desk that it sat upon) lay flipped on their sides on the opposite sides of the room. Stray papers lay scattered across the floor, covering it completely in a sea of papers. 

 

Inhaling slowly through her nose she tried to calm her laboured breathing. As she spun around, ready to make her way towards the kitchen in search of Hermione, she saw the faint flash of a light out of the corner of her eye. 

 

Pivoting on her heels she turned towards the direction she had seen the light come from. Cautiously making her way towards her hemisphere window, the frosted glass reflected the outside sun inwards. Curiosity getting the better of her, she pushed the underside of the window out, giving her space to duck her head under. 

 

The sight that met her caused a smile to twitch upon her lips. If anyone were to ask Minerva what could garner  _ anything  _ reminiscent of a smirk she would tell you nothing and no one could, for she prided herself on being composed at all times. However; what stood, or rather lounged, before her was not the work of just  _ anyone _ . No, this was the work of her dearest friend. There, floating above her small vegetable garden, was a Tabby cat comprised entirely of smoke, leaning back on its haunches lazily licking at its paw. 

 

Opening it’s mouth wide, the cat arched its back. Green eyes met black, the cat tilted its head to the side questioningly. 

 

Yawning once more, it sat down before focusing back on her, “Minerva! I shall be by Bag End in time for Elevenses! I look forward to seeing you soon.” 

 

Shaking her head in amusement she couldn’t help the smile that was plastered across her face.

 

“Yes, well, it will be lovely to see you Albus. Do try not to be too late!” Turning away from the now fading image of the smoke cat, Minerva gripped the window’s latch and locked it into place once more. 

 

The sound of the wooden cuckoo clock caught the brunette hobbit’s attention, “Godric! Is it that time already?” rushing towards the kitchen, Minerva passed the many dishes set out for their prompt meal, instead stopping only when she reached the backdoor of the Hobbit hole. 

 

Pressing against the solid oak door the elder hobbit woman leaned out the front twisting her head left to right in search of her young companion. She was nowhere in sight, to Minerva’s annoyance.

 

Momentarily forgetting the panic she had felt moments prior, the elder hobbit continued to scan the area for her niece. When no sight of the bright young girl was seen Minerva took it upon herself to use the  _ best  _ method she knew in finding someone. It had in fact helped her multiple times on her rather unexpected journey all those years ago. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and yelled:

 

“HERMIONE GRANGER-BAGGINS, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WHICH I KNOW YOU CAN, IT IS TIME FOR ELEVENSES! WE ARE EXPECTING A VISITOR!” 

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

The sound of her Aunt’s voice brought the curly haired brunette out of her book induced trance. Looking up at the meadow she sat in she sighed sadly, “Can’t I just read the day away, Aunt?” she spoke aloud to no one in particular. 

 

Pushing herself off of the tree trunk she leaned against for support, she stood, dusting the dirt and grass off of the front and back of her green peasant dress. 

 

Armed with her two favourite books in hand  **_The Shire: History of The Land and Creatures That Live There_ ** , and  **_Rivendell: The Secrets of the Elves_ ** _ translated from Tengwar to Hobbyton,  _ Hermione began the walk through the wildflowers towards Bag-End. 

 

As she walked with books in hand, she relished the feeling of the tall grass brushing against her legs. Gripping the fabric of her dress with one hand she hitched the side of it up, allowing the wildflowers to gently caress her knees, causing an involuntary shiver to run through her body. The top of Bag-End was slowly coming into view, the top of Minerva’s head barely visible as she leaned out of the doorway. 

 

Before she could yell out to her Aunt, Hermione heard the quiet rustle brush from somewhere behind her. Coming to a stop she kept her eyes trained forward on the familiar Hobbit hole that she was  _ supposed  _ to be at. Tilting her head to the side, she angled her ear upwards slightly, listening for the sound. 

 

Shaking her head after a few moments she straightened the front of her dress, giving her books a once over before taking another step towards the home. As she went to take another she saw the tuft of curly red hair before the sound of her name had reached her ears. .

 

“ELLO HERMIONE!” The voice of a very lanky, (and very red), Ron Weasley emerged from the grasses. 

 

Startled by the combination of his voice and graceless stumble out of the grass (something that eerily reminded her of musk rodents that had scarred her as a young hobbit in the very meadows she now stood in) Hermione had managed with an equal amount of gracelessness to trip over her own two feet and nearly crush both of her prized books. 

 

“Oh gee, sorry about that Hermione! He just gets overly excited ya know?” A different voice spoke. Emerging from a spot only a few paces left of the redheaded hobbit stood a raven haired hobbit boy,  _ Harry.  _ Clutched in his hand was a woven basket, ears of corn and heads of cabbage haphazardly sticking out. 

 

Narrowing her eyes at the two Hermione stood, carefully examining her books she checked the fragile binding, making sure all was well. “ _ Harry _ ,” she spat. Turning towards the other hobbit that now stood next to him she growled, “ _ Ronald. _ ”

 

Looking between Hermione and Harry Ron’s eyes widened. Taking half a step back he raised his hands in surrender. “Hem-ion-ee…” he said between chews, a large cabbage leaf hung out of the side of his mouth as he gnawed at it. 

 

The look Hermione gave both of them was smoldering, her once amber eyes were slowly being consumed by a black ring of rage. Stomping over to the two of them she grabbed  **The Shire** and promptly swatted both of them on the back of their heads with it. 

 

“Ow!” Harry cried. The pounding in his temple that followed the hit caused his vision to blur. 

“Merlin, ‘mione! We were jus’ messin’ about!” Ron whined as he clutched the back of his head. 

 

Just as Hermione was about to smack them again, the sound of a  _ very  _ angry elder stopped her. Casting her eyes back towards where the voice came from, she felt herself pale. 

 

“Potter! Weasley!” The voice boomed. 

 

Slowly turning back to Harry and Ron, Hermione took a deep breath, looking down at the basket still in Harry’s hands she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping,  _ praying _ , it wasn’t what it looked like. “Harry…” she asked softly. “Where did you get that basket?”

 

The flush on both of the hobbit boys face’s were evidence enough of what she had feared. Both of them looking around, debating where would be the best place to hide from the approaching figure. 

 

“You  _ stole  _ those ears and heads from Snape, didn’t you!” Hermione screeched, the pitchiness of her voice caused both of the boys to flinch. 

 

“Mione, please! You can’t let Snape catch us!” Ron spoke, nearly on the edge of tears.

 

“Us? What do you mean ‘us’?” Harry asked. 

 

Ron gave him a confused look, “What do you mean Har-” the basket of stolen vegetables was thrown into his arms as Harry quickly tried to pass them off. “HEY! YOU GE-” Throwing the basket back to Harry both of the boys began a game of catch (and failing miserably at trying to have the other keep it). 

 

“I SEE YOU POTTER!” rang Snape’s monotonous yowl. 

“ _Idiots!_ Do you know what Snape will do to not only _you_ , but to **_me_** as well when he catches us? I will **not** take the blame for you two _again_ , I refuse!” Glaring at both of them Hermione huffed in annoyance. _Surely Mr. Snape wouldn’t blame_ ** _her_** _for this…_ Hermione thought. 

 

Another yell, this one incomprehensible, came from Snape further down the hill as he speedily traversed up the side towards the meadow. Craning her head towards the noise she wondered how long it would take her to run back to her aunt, to Bag-End. Her small feet took considerably longer to get around as opposed to her…  _ friends  _ she thought begrudgingly.

 

“Real sorry ‘bout this Ms. Hermione…” Harry spoke apologetically, “but we really need your help with Severus.”

 

“ _ Harry Potter _ ...” Hermione seethed. “Give.” she took a step towards him, “Me.” Another step. “My.” Curling her fingers inwards she balled her hands into fists. “Books.” Winding her arm up, Hermione leaned back before launching forward, hitting Harry square in the nose. “BACK!” 

 

The force of the blow to Harry’s face was (suffice it to say)  _ quite rough _ . If the look on Ron’s face was any indication as to how he looked, he knew it must have been unsavory. A steady stream of red was flowing from his now crooked nose, (though Ron would say it was an improvement to his face in an attempt to lighten the mood, Harry did  **_not_ ** find it funny) the sleek metallic liquid staining his face and coating his mouth. 

 

“Bloody hell, Hermione! We don’t have time for this!” Harry begged, coughing as the blood slowly filled his mouth with each word. 

 

“I believe you mean to say that  _ you  _ don’t have the time for this.  **_I_ ** am not the two  _ genius  _ hobbit boys who thought it would be a  _ fantastic  _ idea to steal from non other than Mr. Snape!” Hermione screamed at the two. 

 

Watching as the two bickered on, Ron took it upon himself to gather the discarded books that lay on the ground at Harry’s back. For if it was  _ anything  _ that he knew about Hermione Granger-Baggins it was that she  _ loved  _ her books. 

 

“Oi! You two!” Ron interrupted the two before Hermione could get another punch in, “Mione, you want your books back don’t you?” waving the two leatherbound treasures out in front of her he watched as her once angered face contorted into something that could only be comparable to an orc, Ron internally shuddered at the sight in front of him.

 

“You wouldn’t dare…” Hermione spoke, silently threatening him as she approached. 

 

“Oh, you think I won’t will I?” 

 

“I  _ know  _ you won’t Ronald Weasley if you know what is good for you!” Hermione barked.

 

Flipping the top book open to a random page, he leaned it against his shirt, carelessly gripping the pages, “Again, we are real sorry… but we need you! Help Harry and I get out of here and I will give you back your books,” he pleaded.

 

“When I get through with you, you are going to wish that Sna _ —”  _

 

“POTTER! WEASLEY!” The familiar voice rang out once more, this time closer,  _ much closer.  _

 

The choice in that moment was obvious to her, no matter how disheartening. The meadow was a wide open space, a few lone trees scattered through it; Though just beyond the tree Hermione was sitting beneath sat a hill. Not just  _ any  _ hill, but Godric’s Hill. Godric’s Hill was said to grant sanctuary to those who needed it, though it only made itself known to those who were  _ worthy _ . 

 

While that story always made Hermione smile at bedtime, she knew she couldn’t rely on fairytales. No, instead she would rely on the hidden hole that lay just beneath the hill; a space barely big enough for the three, but it would have to do.   

 

“Come on you good-for-nothing dimwit folk!” groaning, she leaned down and helped pull Harry up. “You have legs, they aren’t broken.” She spoke, pushing him forward.

 

“What?” Harry asked, puzzled by her remark.

 

“Get moving!” Pushing past the two, she made a break for the tree, hoping against all odds that they would make it there in time before being spotted. 

 

The sounds of heavy panting filled her ears, Ron and Harry weren’t far behind. 

 

As the tree she sat beneath only minutes before passed by in her peripheral, Hermione slowed to a stop. Pivoting on her heels, she looked to make sure they were close behind. The feel of air rushing past her almost sent Hermione spinning. Before she could fully catch her balance, she was lifted from the ground and thrown onto someone's back.

 

“What is your problem!” Hermione whispered harshly into the redhead’s ear. 

 

“Me? I have no problem! It’s your feet ‘Mione! They are too slow!” Ron whined.

 

“Too  _ slow?  _ I was ahead of you two!” She glared at the back of his head. “And stop calling me ‘Mione, you know I hate it...” she grumbled.

 

“Sorry ‘Mione,” 

 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached down and pinched his side, eliciting a yelp of pain from him.

 

“Serves you right.”

 

With the tree acting as a barrier, obstructing the view of them from Snape; Hermione brought the two boys to a halt. Hopping off of Ron’s back, Hermione walked over to the edge of the hill. The sides were steep, a mixture of grass and dirt lining the sides of it as it came to a small slope at the bottom. 

 

Motioning silently with her hand to come, Hermione took the lead. Stepping back a bit, Hermione took a running start, throwing herself over the edge. Sliding down the face of the hill, she winced as small rocks and twigs cut up her legs and arms. The bottom was fast approaching, maneuvering her body slightly to the right she aimed for the hole’s opening; it was a harsh drop but it would ensure cover much quicker. 

 

The steep drop off came in a blur. The landing, while fast, was surprisingly cushioned by the grass below. Catching her balance, Hermione gave herself a once over, making sure everything was in place. A moment later Ron and Harry joined her at the bottom, both rolling two a stop in crumpled heaps.

 

“Bloody hell! Couldn’t we have… I don’t know  _ walked  _ down the hill?” Ron muttered shrilly.

 

“Would you  **come on** !” Ducking beneath the overhang of the hole, Hermione disappeared into it. 

 

Harry watched as the darkness swallowed her whole. Flicking his eyes between Ron and  the cavernous opening he gave an apologetic shrug before rapidly following suit after Hermione.

 

“G-guys!” Ron squeaked. 

 

Contemplating whether it would just be easier to allow Snape to catch him, rather than joining the other two in the seemingly unending mass of black that consumed the hole; Ron found his answer in the fast approaching footsteps and shouts of the fellow Elder hobbit. 

 

_ Bugger it all,  _ Ron mentally chastised the situation they all found themselves in. Summoning his courage (or whatever could constitute for it) he dove head first into the burrow-like hole that would  _ hopefully  _ be their safe haven. 

 

“Ow! Ron! That was my ribs!” Hermione hissed. 

 

“What’s a rib?” 

 

“Would you two be quiet!” Harry warned as he clasped his hands over their mouths.

 

Seconds turned to minutes as the hidden trio listened for any movement outside of their hiding spot. When no noise came Harry released the two of them, waiting with a bated breath. 

 

“Do you think we lost him?” Ron whispered softly. So softly in fact he thought perhaps the other two hadn’t heard him at all. 

 

“I am not sure… it isn’t like him to just…  _ give up _ , I mean, remember when Fred and George stole from his apothecary cabinet? They only took a few measly ingredients that he could pick up the next time he visited town, but he was relentless, for  _ weeks!  _ Don’t you remember?” 

 

“Well Harry, if it was just  _ measly  _ ingredients that could be picked up in town, why didn’t Fred and George just go into town!” Hermione chastised. 

 

“Now wait just a second, Mione, why is thi-”

 

“Will you both stop calling me  _ that _ ! My name is Hermione, what exactly is so hard about that?” 

“Oi, can we leave now? Harry, you know mum is going to be wondering where we ar-” Ron’s voice cut off as he heard the sound of grunting and scraping coming from above. 

 

None of them said a word, they all could see the remnants of dirt and stones sliding down the side of the hill only to settle at the bottom, a motion that could only be done through the act of someone coming down to join them. 

 

A loud thud echoed from outside alerting the trio to their guest. While the spot they currently found themselves in was quite cramped and far from ideal, there was still a bit of room to move further back. Feeling her hands along the inner wall, Hermione tugged on both Harry and Ron’s suspenders, motioning them to follow. 

 

Nodding in understanding the boys shuffled towards her, careful to make their movements as silent as possible. 

 

The sound of rocks crunching beneath feet caused all movements within to cease. Hermione held her breath, fearful that even that would alert Snape to their location. 

 

“Potter…” 

 

Harry tensed, the sound of his name rolling off the elder’s lips caused a feeling of nausea to run through him. Tilting his head back towards Hermione the only thing he could make out in the darkness was the slight outline of her finger pressed to her lips. 

 

_ Shhhhhhhh _ .

 

A soft yelp came from Hermione’s left, clapping her hand over his mouth to quiet him she leaned into his ear, “What is your  _ problem  _ Ronald!” the biting remark was low, but she knew he heard her. 

 

Without saying another word he pointed towards the entrance. Flicking her eyes to the source of Ron’s outburst, she froze. There, standing at the entry looking in, was Snape. Crouched down ever so slightly, trying to get a better angle of sight. 

 

“Weas-” 

 

“Severus? Is that you?” another voice called, this one much older and more hoarse than that of Snape. 

 

Hermione perked up as soon as she heard the distinctive voice that she had grown accustomed to since her youth. The space she and the boys occupied only seemed to grow smaller. 

 

Maneuvering herself in front of Harry, she crawled forward on her knees, careful to keep herself still concealed by the darkness. 

 

Snape stood in front of Hermione, his back obscuring her view of the man that was speaking to him. With a slight shift she was able to see the man she had hoped it was. 

 

_ Dumbledore. _

 

“Albus,” Snape spoke, slow and deliberate. 

 

Dumbledore observed the hobbit in front of him; Snape was wearing his usual combination of black cut off slacks and a dyed hemp top, a rather unusual colour palette for any  _ normal  _ hobbit, though Albus Dumbledore would be the  **first** to tell you that Severus Snape was anything  _ but.  _

 

“How are you my dear friend?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully. He stood at a whopping 5’8”, compared to Snape’s measly 3’7”. His robes were a light purple colour that seemed to glimmer in the sun, its fabrics woven with that of magic; something the old wizard had in abundance. 

 

“It’s Weasley and Potter again, Albus. They won’t leave my cabbages alone!” 

 

Snape continued on with his verbal crusade Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement here and there, careful to make sure Snape felt he was being heard. Though Dumbledore knew that they were not alone; As Snape turned to look in the opposite direction, Dumbledore gazed at Hermione. 

 

Frozen in place, Hermione waited for the three of them to be outed. Defeated, Hermione picked up the sides of her dress and began to crawl out from her hiding spot. 

 

Holding up his hand to halt her, he shook his head, mouthing “ _ No.”  _ With the flick of his wrist she felt an invisible force gently push her back to her original spot beside Harry. Shooting the three of them a wink, Dumbledore walked back over to Snape, clapping him on the back he bellowed, “Severus! It is nearly Elevenses! When has a Weasley boy ever passed up a meal time?”

 

Muttering a response of agreement, Snape smoothed out the surface of his pants. “Yes, well, I suppose  **_you_ ** would like to handle this?” 

 

Nodding he steered Snape away from the others, tossing his head back he shot them a wink before gently shoving Snape in front. “Yes, this is a  _ very  _ serious matter. I will be sure to bring this up to Mrs. Weasley, punishment from anyone else would be viewed as a slap on the wrist.” 

 

“See to it that it  _ does  _ get resolved,” without another word, Snape left. Leaving only Dumbledore to handle the trio that lay in hiding. 

 

“You three may come out now.”

 

“Harry, is he actually going to tell mum?” Ron squeaked.

 

Rolling her eyes Hermione crawled out on her hands and knees, Harry and Ron right behind her. Lining up beside each other shoulder to shoulder, they looked on at the wizard in front of them. 

 

Holding a straight pipe to his mouth, Dumbledore inhaled a few puffs of the pipe-weed before looking up at the three young hobbits in front of him. 

 

Using the tip of pipe’s mouth piece he pushed the bridge of his half moon glasses up before calmly speaking.

 

“Shall we join your Aunt Miss Baggins?”

 

____________________________________________________________

 

The voice inside Minerva’s head only grew louder as she waited for her niece and oldest friend to arrive. Taking to pacing around the kitchen she busied herself with any mundane chore she could find. At half past Eleven she had cleared the table (twice), washed the vegetables (and the dishes that held them), swept the floor, and had even taken to counting the cracks between the wooden floorboards. Anything to keep her mind from drifting back to that unsettling voice. 

 

“ _ Minervaaaa… put onnnn… the ringgggg…”  _ The voice continued to taunt her.

 

“No matter, I have no use for you  _ or _ your nonsense today,” Minerva spoke aloud to herself. Moving the stack of papers that seemed to  _ always _ find their way back to the dinner table; she felt herself gravitate towards the window once more. 

 

The set up for her birthday tonight could be seen from the inside of her home. Mrs. Weasley could be seen running frantically around the gardens, her daughter Ginny trailing behind miserably. A few hobbit holes down Severus had the Weasley twins, Fred and George, by their ears. The boys must have been getting into something that wasn’t theirs again, (No doubt Dumbledore’s unending stash of fireworks).

 

“ _ Take me to the place you wish to go… I make for a greattttt companionnnnn…”  _ The hissing voice broke through her thoughts.

 

“You most certainly  **_do not_ ** make a great companion, mediocre at best,” wiping the window down with a spare cloth, Minerva opted to head back towards the door in search of her niece again.

 

“ _ You didn’t deny wanting to leave… did you?” _

 

Minerva found herself in a rare state of shock, the idea of  _ any  _ hobbit  **wanting** to leave the safety of the Shire was absolutely preposterous! 

 

Entertained by the idea that he  _ actually  _ thought she wanted to go somewhere, she allowed curiosity to get the best of her. “And where is it exactly that I wish to go?” she asked, only a few feet from the door. 

 

“ _ You wish to return to Rivendell… I  _ **_too_ ** _ wish to return… It is clear you no longer want me… why not pass me on?...” _

 

_ “ _ Rivendell? Why in Godric’s name would I want to go there?”

 

“ _ You seek freedom… as do I… let us be free…  _ **_together_ ** _ … in Rivendell...:” _

 

Gripping the handle on the door, she hesitated in opening, “I…” she felt her voice falter. “I have no desire to go back to Rivendell.”

 

“ _ Tsk Tsk…. Minnie…. You know you do….”  _

 

_ “ _ Stop it, Tom. That’s enough,” Minerva narrowed her eyes.

 

That had silenced the internal voice.

 

Feeling triumphant, Minerva threw open the door, ready to yell for her niece to come in. She was surprised to see not only her niece but two familiar hobbit boys and an elder wizard standing on her stoop.  

 

Looking between the four of them, her eyes fell upon Hermione. Minerva nearly gasped at the sight of her. The perfect green dress she had been wearing only a few hours before was now nicked and split, dirt coating the front of it and grass was wedged between the fabric. Cuts and scraps adorned her arms and legs as she looked down sheepishly, waiting for the storm that would be her Aunt’s rage. 

 

Taking a silent moment to collect herself, she looked up into the kind eyes of her nearest and  _ dearest  _ friend, Albus Dumbledore. The familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye told her all she needed to know. 

 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, would you care to join us for… well it isn’t Elevenses now, is it?” 

 

As the two young hobbits entered the house Minerva motioned with her eyes for Hermione to go upstairs and get changed. 

 

Nodding in understanding Hermione excused herself after quietly thanking Dumbledore for helping them. As she passed Ron and Harry on the way towards the stairs, she made sure both of them received a hard smack behind the head. 

 

“Merlin! Would you stop hitting us?” Ron and Harry both exclaimed.

 

Sucking on her teeth she bit back a response. Giving the two one last glare she picked up the tattered ends of her dress and ran upstairs to get changed. 

 

Minerva watched on, shaking her head in disapproval at Hermione’s actions. Ron and Harry found themselves content in the kitchen nibbling on the small finger sandwiches Minerva had prepared. Just as she was about to offer them some tea, Ron stood, making his way towards the cupboard before withdrawing two cups. 

 

“Would you like a cuppa Mrs. Baggins?” Ron asked around chews. 

 

Finding it harder with each passing moment to keep her composure at the  _ blatant  _ disrespect of her kitchen, she gave a tight lipped smile, shaking her head stiffly, “No thank you, Mr. Weasley.” she sniffed. Noticing the door to the other room was open, Minerva jumped at the opportunity, “Albus and I will be in the parlour if you need us,” she eyed the two. “Though I am sure you are capable of  _ helping yourselves _ .”

 

Dumbledore glided across the floor towards the backroom. He had taken refuge there many times whenever he needed to seek council with someone other than Grindelwald. The room had been tidied up since last time he was here. The usual ceiling high stack of paper had seemingly disappeared. 

 

Once the door to the parlour had been shut, Albus spoke. “Happiest of birthdays to my dearest friend!” 

 

Smiling at the words of congratulations, Minerva grabbed the book she had finished binding earlier that morning and passed it to him as she sat down. “It’s finally done, Albus. All these years and it is  _ finally  _ done.” 

 

The serenity in her voice was enough to garner something between a giggle and a chortle from the wizard. Running his aged hands across the leather he examined the the spine; he could tell just how much love and care had gone into each stitch that would inevitably hold all of his friend’s truths. 

 

“Are you in high spirits for the party?” Albus inquired, setting her life’s work on the edge of her desk. 

 

A look of pain flashed across her face, though just as quickly as it had come it vanished. 

 

“I am indeed, though if I am to be honest… I feel as though this is a bit  _ too  _ much fuss,” Minerva responded only half convincingly. 

 

“I see,” Dumbledore continued. “Is everything alright? Something troubling you?” his eyes traveled from hers down to where her hands cupped the cause of her troubles. “Oh, Minnie… You still have it?”

 

All she could manage to do was nod. 

 

“I see…” his voice spoke with concern. “Does Hermione know about its existence?” 

 

Scoffing at the sheer ridiculousness of the question, Minerva croaked, “Of course not, Albus! Why in Merlin’s name would I let her know?” 

 

Raising his eyebrows in response he kept his reasoning to himself. Knowing the ring still resided with her only gave Dumbledore a feeling of dread. Whatever was to happen tonight, he had a feeling it would have to do with the small gold and onyx ring that had seemed to have found a home in Bag-End all those years ago.

  
  


______________________________________________________________________________

 

Hermione was still reeling at what she had just witnessed. There, in front of all their friends and neighbors, Minerva had  _ vanished _ .

 

Everything had seemed to be going well, there was food and music, plenty of dancing, and the fireworks show that Dumbledore had created was the best Hermione had ever seen. Harry had been sitting with his godfather Sirius Gamgee and Ron had joined them shortly after the dancing had begun. Hermione could see that both of the men had been trying to coax Harry to ask someone to dance, though he refused. 

 

While Harry may not have been having the best night, to Hermione it looked as though her Aunt was the happiest one there. Miss Sprout and Mr. Flitwick found that they couldn’t stop laughing while in her company. The sight of Minerva laughing and smiling warmed her heart, and that is how it was the whole night. 

 

Until it came time to give her  _ speech _ .

 

The speech itself was a blur, Hermione could only remember snippets. The expected thank you in the beginning, the reminiscing of the past, inside jokes that only her closest confidants would know. And then, it took a turn. 

 

A sad look overcame her towards the end of her speech, she began to ramble about how much she appreciated everyone that had been there the last 80 or so years and how she would miss them  _ dearly  _ when it came time for her to go. 

 

And then she went silent.

 

Everyone waited, wondering what it was she would say next, hoping that she would explain what it was she meant by that. 

 

They would be disappointed.

 

For after her long pause, she thanked everyone once again before telling them it was time for her to leave the Shire  _ now.  _

 

Hermione didn’t understand what she had meant,  _ leave the Shire?  _ Why would anyone ever want to do that? She thought perhaps she was feeling ill. 

 

As if somehow detecting Hermione’s unease, Minerva caught her eye, mouthing “ _ I love you _ .”

 

Shaking her head in confusion, Hermione began to make her way through the crowd to her.  Just as she was about to break through, Minerva spoke her last words.

 

“I will miss you all dearly,” she repeated. “But I am afraid this is goodbye. Please try to think of me fondly, as I know I will for all of you.” 

 

And just like that, she had vanished from the stage. 

 

Looking around in hopes of finding Dumbledore she realized that he too was missing. Bunching up the sides of her dress she broke into a sprint, running up the hill towards Bag-End.

 

When she arrived, the door was left open. Laying in the middle of the doorway was an Envelope, the name “Hermione” scrawled in her cursive across the front. 

 

Ripping open the flap she poured the contents out into her hand. The only remnant of her Aunt was a golden ring and a small piece of paper. 

 

_ Do better than me.  _

 

Staring down at the note Hermione felt her chest constrict, her Aunt was  _ gone. _ In the wake of her sadness she hadn’t noticed the figure standing by the fireplace. 

 

“Do you know what that is?” Dumbledore asked, his back still to her. 

 

Looking down into her hand Hermione observed the object in question. The ring was oddly shaped, the band itself jutted out in odd angles at the top and was engraved with strange markings. The stone that was set inside it however, was an entirely different mystery. The colour was a smokey black, and inside of it there seemed to be a strange symbol, one she had never seen before. 

 

Flipping the ring over a few times, Hermione responded, “I don’t sir, should I?” Even though her statement was true, she couldn’t help but feel as if what she asked had for once in her life been “a dumb question”. 

 

Turning away from the flames Dumbledore approached her, “You shouldn’t, but I am afraid now you will have to,” pulling her towards the parlour he sat her down, “I must ask something of you Hermione, something that is dangerous and could very well get you killed. But it is important, I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t.”

 

She knew full well that she should be scared, or even weary, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel either. 

 

“What is it you ask of me?” 

 

With a resigned sigh Dumbledore took a seat beside the window. “The ring that you hold in your hand, it belonged to a powerful wizard, a  **dark** wizard,” he watched as Hermione slowly nodded. 

 

“With this ring, he has the power to destroy any and all,” the edges of his glasses began to slide down the slope of his nose. “That ring, is what is known as,  _ The Deathly Hallows _ . It is is a ring that is comprised of  **three** highly powerful magical objects. The stone in the center, is called the resurrection stone,”

 

At the mention of the name Hermione’s eyes widened, “Dumbledore… surely you can’t mean  _ the  _ resurrection stone,” she waited for him to tell her that she was correct, or that it was a  _ different  _ resurrection stone. He did neither. 

 

“Oh, but it is. Just because stories are labeled as fables or myths does not make them necessarily  _ untrue.” _

 

“You said there were three, what are the other two?” Hermione asked, scooting closer to him. 

 

“Ah yes,” Dumbledore elaborated. “The stone, the cloak, and the wand. The invisibility cloak is what is represented in those markings,” pointing to them, he continued, “when the keeper of the ring wears it they have the ability to become invisible, but I am afraid that is the reason why I must ask you to do this task for me. When Minerva slipped the ring on and disappeared, the magic within the ring alerted Voldemort’s dementors to its location. You are in danger, Hermione.”

 

“Voldemort?” Hermione asked, the name while foreign to her held a frightening deja vu feeling along with it. 

 

“That is the dark wizard that we  _ never  _ speak of, but Hermione, I need you to listen to me.”

 

Closing her mouth she allowed him to continue.

 

“You must take this to Rivendell, the Elves there will know what to do with it. There are some things I must attend to before we can meet there, but I promise that I will be there when you arrive.” 

 

Glancing down at the ring in her palm, the one that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, she found a rather odd feeling bloom. One of intrigue and wonder, or fear and curiosity. She knew that there was a possibility she wouldn’t be returning, but she also knew that if she didn’t do this, than no one would. 

 

Standing up in front of the chair Dumbledore had been occupying she slipped the ring into her inner pocket. Looking around at the place she had called home for as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to take it all in. Memorize it, ground herself in the moment. For she knew it would be a long time until she would see it again. 

 

Grabbing her cloak from around the chair, she turned to Dumbledore who was now standing by the door. 

 

“Dumbledore,” Hermione asked as she slipped some food into a bag. 

 

“Yes?” materializing his staff, he leaned against it, watching her as she readied herself to leave. 

 

“Would it be possible to bring someone or  _ someones  _ with me?”

 

He smiled, “I think that could be arranged.”

 

____________________________________________________________

**_Diagon City, Rivendell_ ** __

_       Five Months Ago _

_ 458 Miles from Bag-End _

_ ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞ _

 

The journey to Rivendell was  _ no  _ easy feat. Ron and Harry (while doing a  _ fantastic  _ job at keeping Hermione occupied) continuously slowed the expedition down. Each farm they passed was a constant struggle for Hermione; keeping those two out of other’s gardens was proving to be more difficult than the nearly 400 mile trek to the Elven city. 

 

“Hermioneeeee!” Ron wailed, “What about  _ second  _ breakfast?”

 

Hermione stopped on the trail in front of them. She whipped around, Ron could see the fiery rage within her eyes.  **_Thud_ ** . The sound of Hermione dropping the knapsack that contained their rationed food and a few odds and ends caused Harry to stop mid-step, nearly colliding into Ron’s back. 

 

“ _ Ronald Weasley, _ ” Hermione warned through clenched teeth. “If I hear you mention  _ second  _ breakfast  **one** more time I will make sure Dumbledore knows who has been slowing us down this entire time! And when he asks why, do you think ‘ _ second breakfast’  _ will be a good enough reason for our nearly  **fortnight** delay?”

 

With a loud gulp Ron shook his head. 

 

“Fantastic, now, could we  _ please  _ just do our best to get to this blasted city and return this ring to the queen?” without giving either of them a chance to respond she turned around and continued walking, not even bothering to pick up the discarded bag that contained the last few morsels of food they had for their journey. 

 

The next half an hour was unnaturally quiet. Ron and Harry whispered quietly amongst themselves while Hermione took the time to enjoy the silence. There were no birds chirping or scurrying of the woodland animals that lived there. 

 

The sun hung low in the sky, it would be dark soon.

 

A low, inaudible sound came from Ron’s left, pulling away from Harry’s side he snapped his head towards the trees that seemed to be the source of the strange sound. Sweeping his cloak to the side he bent down to pick up a fallen branch, brandishing it as a weapon.

 

“Mione… I don’t have a good feeling about these trees, they give me the creeps,” Ron tried in vain to get Hermione to listen, but alas, that was  _ never  _ in the cards for him. 

 

“Ron, you don’t like the feeling of  _ anything _ . Now stop complaining, it shouldn’t be much farth-” 

 

There was no mistaking the noise of horses hooves beating against the ground, the sound came from all around them. 

 

_ They were cornered. _

 

“Can we panic now?” Ron whimpered.

 

Harry sprung forward, pushing Hermione behind him so that he and Ron could shield her. “How many do you think there are?” he asked over his shoulder. 

 

The feeling of her heart hammering against her chest made it hard for her to breathe, let alone focus. Narrowing her eyes at the edges of the wood she twisted her neck, trying desperately to tune her ear into the sounds of their visitors. 

 

The noise ceased once more. Letting out a frustrated sigh Hermione contemplated whether or not she should just confront whoever it was that stood by, watching and waiting for them to make their move. “I don’t know Harry… it could be anywhere from 5 to 30, though my guess would lie somewhere in the higher range.”

 

“Fantastic,” He quipped back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

 

A  _ crunch _ came from Hermione’s right, a shadow spotted just out of her peripheral darted across the trees. 

 

“Well, Mrs. Weasley always did tell us to make more friends,” the voice that spoke didn’t sound like Harry, it was low and deflated. All traces of his usual animated, chipper self was gone, instead replaced with the voice of a boy barely keeping it together.

 

“ _Bloody_ _hell Harry,_ I don’t think that’s what mum meant!” while Ron’s voice quaked his body was miraculously still. The thought that at any moment whoever was watching them could attack caused his body to freeze. 

 

Hermione however  _ wasn’t  _ going to do that.

 

“Who are you?” she called out. As soon as the words left her mouth she saw how tense the other two became. Listening for any sort of response she found she was met with  **none** .

 

“Are you mad!” It was Ron’s turn to tilt his head back and look at her, though  _ her  _ being on the receiving end of being chastised was definitely  **different** . 

 

Shaking her head in anger Hermione began to protest, “Am  _ I  _ mad? Are you honestly asking me that?  **_You_ ** are the reason we are so behind! If you weren’t talking about food or complaining about the distance every five minutes  _ maybe,  _ just  _ maybe _ we wouldn’t be in this situation we are currently in!” 

 

“Would you two  _ shut your mouths _ ? Or are we going to have to gag you lot?” Stepping out from behind the canopy of trees stood two men, or more appropriately, two elves. 

 

The one that spoke was  _ very  _ tall and of a  _ very  _ lean build. His raven locks fell in soft waves that framed his face, the length only running a bit below his ears.  _ Blue _ . His eyes were a dazzling shade of it, where Ron’s were pale - this Elf’s were almost electric. His complexion was light, but not quite enough to be considered fair; the clothes he wore were magnificent, it’s quality rivalled only by that of Dumbledore’s personal wardrobe. 

 

The other boy was  _ striking _ . Hermione  _ almost  _ found it hard to look away. Unlike his friend, this elf had short, neatly kept hair. His eyes were a reflective amber that unsettlingly bore into you. His dark complexion blended effortlessly with the forest and his uniform.

 

They were soldiers. They had been  _ stopped _ by  _ Elven soldiers. _

 

“Commander Malfoy will be most pleased, don’t you agree Blaise?” The brunette asked. 

 

Feigning boredom the other elf, Blaise, raised an eyebrow at them. “I suppose so. Though Theo, isn’t he expecting them?” 

 

“Expecting them?” Theo asked, uncertainty laced in his voice. “Expecting them for what?”

 

“I hear Dumbles is back in Diagon,” Blaise yawned as he motioned for his horse to step forward. “It must be pretty important if they are summoning the Sacred 28, and I do mean  _ all  _ of them.” 

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Theo motioned with his hand to stop. “ _ All _ sacred 28? Even  **_them_ ** _? _ ”

 

Blaise nodded in agreement.

 

“Are you just fucking with me? Because if you are  _ lying _ I swear to Merlin I will -”

 

Rolling his eyes Blaise led Ron over towards his horse, “Your stupidity still manages to surprise me,  _ every. Single. Day.  _ How do you do it? You know damn well  _ Elves  _ **_do not_ ** and  **_cannot_ ** _ lie.”  _

 

“Fucking hell, your right.”

 

“Of course I bloody am,” Blaise growled to himself.

 

“Well then I guess we can’t gag ‘em,” Theo made eye contact with Hermione, slyly winking at her out of Blaise’s area of sight. “What a shame.”

 

“Ah yes, what a shame. Too bad I can’t gag you,” Blaise muttered under his breath. 

 

At this, Hermione laughed.

 

Narrowing his eyes at her, Theo marched over and hoisted her body over the back of his shoulders. 

 

Releasing a yelp of surprise Hermione began an assault on Theo’s back, pounding at it with her fists. “Let. Me.  _ DOWN!”  _ The punches and kicks didn’t let up, she tried to fight him, but he wasn’t budging. 

 

A low rumble vibrating through his body told her he was laughing.  _ Laughing.  _ At her. 

 

“Calm down,  _ princess _ . We are taking you to Diagon to meet with our council.”

 

Huffing in annoyance, she allowed Theo to place her atop his horse. Ron was upon Blaise’s horse and Harry was a top another Elf’s. 

 

“What if I don’t wish to seek a meeting with your council?” 

 

This response elicited another chuckle from Theo. Slipping his hands through the reigns he situated himself before gracing her with a response. “Oh what it must be like to be so foolishly naive to think that you have the  _ privilege  _ to decline a meeting with the council.”

 

“The  _ privilege?  _ What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” squeezing his torso with more force than needed, she watched him squirm, trying to loosen her grip on him.

 

“If you have to ask what I mean by that, there is your answer.”

 

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Hermione shouted. Digging her nails into the side of his ribs, she felt the sharp inhale he took, trying to soothe the pain. 

 

“That’s life princess, it doesn’t make sense,” nodding to Blaise he allowed the other two to go ahead. 

 

“Who even is this ‘ _ council’  _ you speak of? Who sits upon it?” 

 

“You will see,” was all he said. Before she could ask another question he loosened her hold around his middle before leaning forward into his horse, saying calmly.

 

“Walk on.”

 

____________________________________________________________

 

Diagon was a beautiful city. Rivendell as a whole was gorgeous. Greenery seemed to be everywhere; in the streets, atop homes, wrapped around pillars. A giant waterfall stood in the center feeding its people and vegetation alike. There was no time to  _ truly  _ appreciate the city they were in. 

 

As soon as they made it into the city Theo and Blaise ushered them up the hundreds of stairs that led to the citadel, the meeting place of the council. Blaise stood behind Harry and Ron gently ushering them forward.

 

“What do you think?” Theo whispered into her ear. “Still want to refuse a meeting with our council?”

 

Jumping slightly at the feeling of his breath on her ear, Hermione instinctively patted the side of her waist. 

 

Internally releasing a sigh of relief, she pretended as if she hadn’t heard him. 

 

“Hopefully you are this quiet when we arrive, Lucius hates to be interrupted,” Theo remarked. 

 

The entrance to the citadel was magnificent, even more beautiful than the pictures in Hermione’s book had depicted. Pearlescent columns lined the entire site, emerald green ivy clinging to it as it wound itself tight around its frame. The view however, was by far the best part. 

 

It was a sight to behold. The height at which the Citadel had been built gave an angle to the falls that created the illusion of a stream of colours to pour out of it, _ spectacular,  _ she thought.

 

Opening the doors Hermione suddenly became aware of just how  _ small  _ this place could make people feel. While she was  _ far  _ from tall, Hermione was in fact the tallest in the Shire, standing at about 5’2”; the human genes her mother had passed down to her had gifted her with some height and small  _ hairless  _ feet. 

 

Theo moved from her side, helping Blaise to open the second set of doors, this one presumably to The Room of Requirement. She had read that Elves discussed all of their most important issues within that room. Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a  _ little  _ bit excited to be able to say she had the opportunity to sit in on a council meeting in Rivendell. 

 

As soon as the doors opened, Hermione expected to be met by Dumbledore, or at the very least a table with elders she hadn’t seen before. Instead, as the doors began to open another young Elf strode through. Once he had made it to their side he quickly shut the doors, sealing them once again. 

 

Eyeing this new elf Hermione noticed the vast differences between the three of them. This particular elf had long wavy brown hair, his eyes were that of molten silver, and he seemed to be the only one with any semblance of facial hair. He was tall, 6’2” perhaps? She could tell he must have been high ranking. His uniform he wore was similar in colour to that of Theo and Blaise’s but the fabric and embellishments on it showcased an  _ experienced _ warrior, far more experienced than the two that had escorted them there. 

  
  


“What’s going on?” Theo asked, his usual snarky demeanor had vanished, this time replaced with a concerned nature. 

 

Trailing his eyes lazily between Theo and Hermione he stopped. Pushing himself off the door he had been leaning on he walked over to her, a smirk playing on his lips. 

 

“So this is the one that has caused all this trouble?” he looked at her with a renewed curiosity.

 

Being under his eye, Hermione felt herself squirm involuntarily. 

 

“Trouble? What trouble?” Theo asked again.

 

“Why did he ask for  _ you?”  _ The Elf’s silver eyes caused her to momentarily freeze, it was as if time was suspended.  _ What “he” are you referring to?  _ She thought. 

 

“For fuck’s sake Draco! Answer me!” Theo grabbed Draco by the back of his collar yanking him towards the door. 

 

Smacking away his hand the elf,  _ Draco,  _ Hermione internally repeated, motioned to the three of them. 

 

“Dumbledore said some she hobbit was coming with her merry men because she harbours something  _ dangerous,”  _ he spoke. Looking back over to her he crossed his arms, leaning slightly on his left leg giving her a once over. “So, what is this dangerous thing?”

 

_ The nerve!  _ Hermione inwardly hissed. Grinding her teeth together she forced a pleasant smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “I would prefer to discuss this with the council. So, if you could please escor-” 

 

The sound of laughter cut her off. 

 

“Discuss with the council?” Draco barked with laughter, “You aren’t going to see them. It is just the council and Dumbledore at this point.”

 

Whipping around to face all three of the elves Hermione could feel her face redden with anger, “What do you mean I won’t be going to see them? That was the whole reason for traveling here! Let me see Dumbledore, he will tell you!”

 

“You will see him soon enough,” Draco smirked. 

 

Motioning to Blaise and Theo he had them move the trio to the room adjacent. Hermione watched as he ducked back into the room, silently cursing she hoped that Dumbledore would be able to clear everything up. 

 

____________________________________________________________

 

It would be another two hours before Hermione, Harry, and Ron would be seen. As soon as the doors had opened Hermione had leapt from her seat in search of her mentor. 

 

The purple robes that she had grown accustomed to were already fast approaching her. 

 

Without hesitation she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, afraid that if she didn’t, he may disappear again.

 

“That prat in the embellished uniform wouldn’t let me in there to join you all! Tell me, what did they say? Who do I give the ring to?” Hermione wheezed, it was as if all of the air in her lungs had been sucked out of her. 

 

“Hermione,” Dumbledore’s murmured quietly, something that could only signify trouble was ahead. “I am afraid I must  _ once again  _ ask too much of you.” 

 

The hope that had moments ago flared in her chest quickly deflated, leaving her with only the numbness she had grown accustomed to. “What is it?” She asked.

 

“The Elves say they can no longer harbour the ring here, it isn’t safe they say.”

 

At this, Hermione snorted. “It isn’t safe? And they think that the journey here was safe?” The anger she had tried to curtail since her Aunt leaving was quickly building, “We didn’t even have weapons! Do you know what we  _ did  _ have? Rocks and sticks!” 

 

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement, “I understand.”

 

“So where are they sending me? Lothlorien? Isengard? Bourgin? Where? Please tell me, I would love to see how  _ close  _ it is to Rivendell and just how  _ safe  _ we will be.”

 

“None of those places, I am afraid…”

 

She watched as he averted his eyes, looking everywhere but at her, “Well, that’s good isn’t it? That means we are going to be closer to Rive-”

 

He shook his head. 

 

“It’s  **_farther_ ** ?” 

 

He still refused to look at her, “I am afraid so, you would be traveling to  _ Merlin’s Well _ in Mordor,  _ Knockturn  _ to be exact.”

 

Hermione knew she must have visibly paled by the way Dumbledore had reached out to steady her, his grip on her elbows kept her upright as he spoke.

 

“I won’t be sending you off empty handed, come with me,” he tugged her gently towards an open balcony near The Room of Requirement. 

 

Placing her arms upon the balcony edge Dumbledore reached into the inside of his long robe sleeves, feeling around for whatever he was searching for. 

 

“Mm,” he mumbled as he finally pulled free something cloth covered from his sleeve. 

 

Standing on her tippy toes, Hermione peeked over, trying to see what it was beneath the cover. 

 

Wiping the surface of the balcony off, Dumbledore placed the object upon it, slowly working the threaded knots that kept it secure. 

 

As soon as the last knot was pulled Hermione watched as the covering fell away. Covering her mouth in an effort to muffle her gasp she looked down at the gift Dumbledore was bestowing upon her. 

 

“This is an enchanted sword, If a dementor or boggart is nearby it will glow blue, do you understand?” He gave her a serious look. “That means you don’t always need to fight, it will alert you if they are nearby so that can give you some time to get out.” 

 

Hermione gave him a small smile, “I understand. But what if one of them picks it up? Or just one of his followers? It won’t glow blue for them,” at this Hermione began to worry. 

 

“Do not fret, for just as the sword is enchanted to alert when creatures of the dark are near, anyone who is associated with that kind of dark sorcery or has any ties to Voldemort won’t be able to touch it, Not for long that is.”

 

“What do you mean, not for long?” 

 

“It is enchanted with a heat charm, any sort of contact with a dark sorcerer will cause an excruciating burning sensation. They won’t be able to hold it,” picking up the blade by its hilt he cautiously handed it over to her. 

 

The blade felt oddly natural in her hand, swinging it back and forth slowly she realized it almost felt like an extension of her arm. 

 

“You are a natural,” he smiled down at her. 

 

Unable to stop the grin from appearing on her face she gave him another hug before quickly pulling away, forgetting something.

 

“What about Ron and Harry? Are they getting the  _ same  _ blade as I am?” She couldn’t keep the slight worry out of her voice as she asked the question. 

 

“Oh no, nothing like that. Though I do believe I may have some enchanted rope lying around somewhere,” he winked. 

 

“Gave her the weapon I see.”

 

Craning her neck towards the door Hermione saw Draco leaning against the frame, watching the two of them. 

 

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Yes, indeed. I just gave it to her.”

 

“I can see that,” his voice was neutral as he spoke. “Glad to know I won’t be the only one armed on this little expedition.”

 

“ **What?** ” Hermione nearly screeched,  _ surely _ she couldn’t have heard that correctly. “You are  **_not_ ** coming along!”

 

Dumbledore cleared his throat, “I am afraid that was part of the deal, Hermione.”

 

Whipping her neck back around towards him she watched as a sheepish smile replaced the jovial one they had shared, before  _ Malfoy  _ had interrupted it. “Deal? There is  _ no  _ deal! They said they couldn’t protect it, so that means this is all on me. Not some egotistical military prat who seems to only have two defaults,  _ neutral _ and  _ infuriating _ !”

 

“Are you flirting with me, Granger?” 

 

It was a wonder Hermione hadn’t had a broken neck yet from the constant whipping back and forth. Turning back towards Draco she scolded, “How do you know my name?” 

 

There it was, that  _ stupid smirk  _ she thought. 

 

“I know a lot more about you than you think, Granger. This should make for an enjoyable journey, don’t you think?” 

 

Groaning, she pushed past him in search of Harry and Ron.  _ Anywhere  _ would be better than having to stay in a shared space with  _ Draco bloody Malfoy.  _

 

____________________________________________________________

The first month  had gone surprisingly well. Ron and Harry stayed close to each other, finding amusement amongst themselves, and allowed Hermione and Draco to duke it out for who would be the leader for the day. 

 

They had a system, however dysfunctional it may be, and it worked. 

 

At least for that  _ one  _ month.

 

As soon as that next week came around, everything turned to shite. 

 

In that one week Hermione had  _ managed _ to (barely) defeat  _ not only _ a boggart but a dementor with the sword Dumbledore had given her. 

 

She had  _ managed _ to lay her first trap (and catch something) something Malfoy had claimed she would never be able to do. 

 

She had managed to outwit Malfoy when it came to a battle strategy. 

 

She had  _ managed _ to allow Malfoy to clean and bandage her wounds. 

 

She had  _ managed  _ to help Harry and Ron with their own battle training. 

 

She had  _ managed  _ to allow herself to make the transition from Malfoy to  _ Draco _ . 

 

She had  _ managed  _ to somehow forget who  _ she  _ was and who  _ he  _ was. 

 

She had  _ managed  _ to kiss him and for once not overthink things. 

 

She had  _ managed _ to  _ lose herself  _ in the moment with him. 

 

She had  _ managed  _ to not notice Harry and Ron sneak off in search of some more food. 

 

And by the end of that week?

 

She had  _ managed  _ to allow her friends to be abducted by Dementors. 

 

She was angry. 

 

And she was going to show them just how  _ angry  _ she could get. 

 

___________________________________________________

  
  
  


**_Salazar’s Chambers_ ** ,  **_Gaunt’s Passage_ **

_ Present Day _

_ 1,309 Miles from Bag-End _

_           ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞   ∞       _

 

“Granger, do keep up, would you?” Draco huffed, shouldering his bow as he zigzagged through the boulders that lay in their path. 

 

“You want me to keep up? Than stop taking such big steps! Or would you prefer to carry me all the way to Merlin’s Well?” Hermione snapped. She couldn’t believe the  _ nerve  _ of him. It was his fault that Harry and Ron were taken, she thought. 

 

The thought of Ron and Harry provoked a painful lump to form in her throat threatening to choke her. Draco’s dark mane disappeared from her sight as he ducked behind one of the stone labyrinth’s walls. Clutching her cloak tighter she found that the sadness at the thought of her stolen friends was now replaced by something else,  _ anger.  _

 

Rushing through the remainder of the path, carefully dodging the boulders that jutted out, Hermione caught up to him. Grabbing Draco by the back of his arm, she spun him around to face her. 

 

“Why couldn’t you have just trusted me!” the anguish that had been building suddenly spilled out of her in one swift wave. “They would still be with us if you had just trusted I could protect myself! Dumbledore entrusted this mission to me, to  _ us!  _ Not just  _ you!”  _

 

The look of surprise on his face had taken her aback; but just as quickly as it came it had disappeared, instead replaced with a scowl. 

 

“Why couldn’t I trust you? I don’t  _ know  _ you, Granger!” Draco roared, his normally fair complexion now red with rage. 

 

She knew she shouldn’t have felt what she did, but she couldn’t help it. The sharp pain was proving to be nearly unbearable. Was it  _ betrayal?  _ No, she knew what it was, but she would  **never** admit it, to herself and especially not to him. 

 

“You  _ don’t know  _ me? So, you just want to pretend that what happened back in Rowena…” She felt herself trail off, suddenly going silent. 

 

“There is nothing to pretend about,” Draco spoke evenly. “ _ Nothing _ happened, or at least nothing that  _ meant  _ anything.” 

 

She froze.

 

His words did the one thing she thought that  **no one** could do.

 

They broke her. 

 

Draco Malfoy had managed to break her heart with one single sentence. 

 

She didn’t have time for this, she knew there was enough to worry about with their current predicament without having to add  _ first heartbreak  _ to the list.

 

Pushing aside the pain of his words she decided to focus on what mattered most,  _ getting Ron and Harry back _ . 

 

With a curt nod Hermione moved around him, the idea of having to look at him any longer than was absolutely necessary caused her stomach to knot. 

 

A few feet from her seemed to be the center of the labyrinth, a large jagged opening framing the dark, seemingly endless cave. No light was visible from where Hermione stood. Remembering what she had within her dress’ inner pocket she gently slid her hand down into the fabric until she felt the cool elongated metal in her hand. 

 

Slipping the gift from Dumbledore out from her pocket she flipped it over in her hands, her fingers running over the smooth edges of the device. A sad smile played at her lips,  _ Ron.  _

 

It was a gift to Ron, Dumbledore had bestowed upon them each gifts (as did the elves) to help aid them on their journey to Merlin’s Well where they would finally destroy the ring of Marvolo once and for all. 

 

_ “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the  _ **_light_ ** _.”  _

 

Hermione recited Dumbledore’s words over and over in her head, if she couldn’t find  _ happiness  _ quite yet… perhaps it could in fact help with their lack of light in this situation. 

 

With bated breathe and a shaky hand Hermione held the deluminator in front of her, allowing her fingers to slide over the metal bar, she slowly lifted it up. The cap of the deluminator flipped open, revealing a floating orb of light that quickly released from its holding. The light bounced gently off the walls before settling in the middle of the enormous cave. 

 

“Let's go Malfoy,” her voice was void of emotion, before she could be tempted to turn and look at him, she walked in.

 

“Granger!” Unhooking his bow from his shoulder Draco slid an arrow into the knocking point, following in after her. “Get back here!” 

 

Glaring at the wall beside her she slowed her pace, allowing him to catch up before continuing onward. 

 

“There,” Hermione sneered. “Are you happy now, Prince Malfoy?” 

 

“Hermione,” Draco spoke, his voice that same disgusting shade of indifference. 

 

“We don’t have all day,” was the only response she gave.   

 

“Will you just hold on?” Tugging her back by her elbow, Draco spun her directly into his chest.    
  


The close proximity of their bodies caused Hermione’s mind to become fuzzy. The air between them thickened.

 

Pressing his nose into her hair he inhaled slowly, “I’m… sorry,” his words were spoken softly, slightly muffled against the top of her head. “You know I don’t know how to express myself, or handle situations accordingly…” he paused, the internal struggle he was having with himself made it difficult for him to speak. “But I will try.” drawing his nose away from her head he looked down at her, searching her eyes for the fleeting warmth he had witnessed only a handful of times since they had been paired together. 

 

“I promise.” his voice broke slightly, an almost frightened tone lay beneath the surface. 

 

The admission sent shockwaves throughout her body. She  _ desperately  _ wanted to believe that this man that she had spent the last five months with had changed,  _ truly changed  _ for the better. 

 

But she  _ refused  _ to be made a fool of, to be treated as if her feelings came second. 

 

She refused to let him think that an apology could fix everything. 

 

**_Elves don’t lie._ **

 

“ _ Bastard,”  _ Hermione thought. Though, that is what Blaise had said, hadn’t he? That Elves  _ can’t  _ lie. Did that mean he meant it?

 

She hadn’t said anything to him, and it made him nervous. He looked from her eyes to her mouth, wondering if  **now** was the proper time to finish what he had started back in Rowena. 

 

Alas, Hermione would  _ never  _ make it that easy for him.

 

The sound of something dripping reverberated throughout the cave. Spinning around in his grip Hermione managed to break free of him, deciding that now was as good a time as any (much to Draco’s annoyance) for them to continue onward. 

 

The flighting orb undulated up and down, flickering ever so slightly over the water’s glassy surface. Stepping along the narrow path that lay flush against the cave’s walls she was mesmerized by just  _ how much  _ water was within it. The water took up almost the entirety of the space, extending for what seemed like miles before them. The azure waters while calm, had an eerie aura. There wasn’t enough light to determine its depth, though judging by the way Draco’s adam’s apple bobbed uncertainly, she knew it must have been quite deep. 

 

Clamoring over a lone log and a few more jagged rocks, Hermione found herself atop a stone podium, a crystal dish laying inside it. The center was hollowed out, a dark liquid filling the bowl. An unusual looking shell lay to the side with a scooped edged, Hermione gasped, “Peter was telling the truth?” 

 

Slinging his leg over the last obstruction Draco sidled up beside her, leaning over the edge to get a better look, he scoffed. “Stop calling him that, Granger. He hasn’t been Peter for  _ centuries _ ,” the look of disgust on his face made it clear he hadn’t changed his mind about him. “Wormtail doesn’t necessarily  _ lie _ ,” Draco spoke lowly. Dipping his fingers into the black liquid he leaned his face closer, hoping to catch a scent of what it could be. “He just doesn’t tell the whole truth.”

 

As he spoke, his dark wavy tendrils fell neatly around his face, the look of complete concentration settling into his features. The furrow of his brow told her that he couldn’t tell what it was that lay in the crystal bowl, but they both  _ knew  _ that there was some truth to what Wormtail had said.

 

“We have to drink it...” Hermione muttered. The inky liquid that swirled within its container looked daunting. 

 

“Drink it?” Draco asked exasperated. “You don’t  _ seriously  _ think his instructions hold any merit, do you? Brushing the strands of hair out of his face, he moved away from the murky water. Crossing his arms over his chest he silently challenged her. 

 

Or at least that is how  _ she  _ took it. 

 

“We don’t have a choice!” She lashed out, she could feel her patience slipping. The longer they waited, the less likely it would be to be able to bring Ron and Harry home  _ alive.  _

 

Refusing to consult Draco on any further decision making, she decided that  _ she  _ would just have to be the one to do it. 

 

Snatching the shell off the side she did what she felt she had to do.  _ Drink it.  _ Dunking the shallow edge of the shell into the stained water she brought it to her lips.

 

“HERMIONE, NO!” Draco lunged for her, trying hopelessly to pull the shell away from her lips. 

 

As soon as the water hit her tongue, she began to feel the effects. Images of her mother and father flashed before her, stumbling blindly towards the water. 

 

Grabbing ahold of her waist, he pulled her back just as her feet skimmed the water’s surface. 

 

“Hermione?” Draco whispered, his thumbs rested beneath both of her eyes, inspecting her face for any changes. 

 

Hermione’s body began to shake as sobs began to rack through her body. 

 

“Mom?” her voice was soft, and her eyes glassy.

 

“ _ Fuck _ , it’s a pensieve,” Strapping his bow back around his body, Draco bent down to grab her. Swinging her effortlessly into his arms his feet began the trek down the other side of the path. “It’ll be okay Hermione,” Draco spoke soothingly. 

 

The instant Draco’s foot stepped off the rocky ledge that harboured the crystal pensieve the sound of moving water startled him. 

 

Setting Hermione down inside of a protective crevice he withdrew his bow, slowly making his way to the water’s edge. 

 

The floating orb was still in the center, though the undulating had stopped, it was still. 

 

The sound of something rubbing came from Draco’s right, followed by the sound of something slinking below the water. Frantically aiming his bow in both directions, he strained his eyes and ears to pick up  _ anything  _ that might give the source away. 

 

_ Sssss…… Why are… ssss… you here…. Ssss…?  _ A low, masculine voice called from somewhere in the cave.

 

Noticing a single rock in the water Draco hopped onto it, landing in a crouch. “Show yourself!” he yelled. 

 

Another splash, though this one sounded much closer.

 

….Asss… you… wish…. Elven pppprinceeee….

 

As soon as the words were spoken Draco had realized his mistake, for this was no man or beast he had ever fought before, it was  _ his  _ child. 

 

“A  _ fucking Basilisk _ ,” Draco breathed, drawing his bow up to face the rising serpent. 

 

The head of the Basilisk rose slowly out of the water, yellow eyes narrowed at him as it began to rise its neck from beneath the surface. 

 

_ ….Whatsssss…. Wrong….? Am I notsssss…. What you expected….? _

 

Draco kept his arm steady, waiting for the creature to make it’s move. “Well, to be honest, I expected you to be a bit prettier.” 

 

“Stop provoking it!” Hermione yelled, her pensieve induced haze finally clearing.

 

“What do you expect me to do, Granger? Dance with it!” Draco belted back. 

 

An earsplitting hiss filled the cave as the Basilisk lunged at Draco’s feet, the snake hybrid missing him by only a hairsbreadth. 

 

Ducking his head beneath his chin, Draco landed in a somersault back on the path. Quickly recuperating he brought the line of sight up to his eye before letting an arrow fly, impaling itself into the side of the Basilisk’s face. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione struggling to get out of her hiding spot, drawing another arrow from his quiver he watched as the next one embedded itself in the snake’s forehead. 

 

“What are you doing? Stay there!” Draco warned. Just as he turned back around he felt his body slam into the cave’s wall. 

 

Struggling to catch his breath, he reached back for another arrow, frantically pulling at the air trying to grip one. 

 

“DRACO! DROP THE BOW! IT ISN’T WORKING!” Hermione screamed, She struggled to see him as her tears began to block him from her vision. “TAKE THE SWORD!” 

 

Mustering up as much strength as she could, she threw it towards him. The sword clinked as it landed only a few feet from him. 

 

Eyeing the sword Draco watched as she screamed at him to take it, but he could no longer hear her. 

 

_ He was done.  _

 

“Get out of here Hermione!” using his boot he kicked the sword back over to her, he knew he wasn’t going to make it, but  _ she could.  _

 

“COME ON FUCKER! I’M RIGHT HERE!” Jumping up from where he lay, he ran in the opposite direction of Hermione, drawing him away from her. 

 

_...You..ssss…. Do have...sss… a.. Deathssss...wishhhh…. _

 

The Basilisk’s elongated fang struck the side of Draco’s bracer, the venom pooled at the top of the leather shield. 

 

Climbing back onto the stone pile that held the pensieve Draco swiftly removed the remaining arrows that he had, careful to coat them in what remained of the liquid.

 

Just as he pulled the arrows from elixir he looked up, only to be met by a giant yellow eye. 

 

….  _ Timessss…. Upppp...ssss….. _

 

In that moment, Draco realized he felt no fear, Releasing two of the poison drenched arrows he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain and nothingness to occur. 

 

Instead, he heard Hermione scream. 

 

Opening his eyes he felt his stomach drop, there laying in front of the pensieve was Hermione, laying in a pooled mixture of the potion and her blood. 

 

A giant gash ran down the left side of her body from the top of her arm to the bottom of her foot. She was  _ dying.  _

 

_ No, no. no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!  _ Draco’s mind roared. 

 

Throwing himself over the remains of the pensieve he landed beside Hermione, her blood was draining slowly,  _ there’s still a chance.  _

 

“D-Draco,” Hermione coughed, the poison already affecting her speech. “Ssss..o...wd” She pointed towards the sword that lay by her mangled leg. 

 

“I-I can’t!” Draco cried out, he knew what would happen once he touched it. 

 

“C-can,” was all Hermione managed to say before the pain became too unbearable. Gripping his hand, she managed to pass him the one thing she knew could make the difference, before passing out. 

 

Staring down into his open palm he looked at the ring that had caused all of this. He wanted more than anything to just chuck it, forget it ever existed, and just move on.

 

But he knew he couldn’t do that. 

 

The sound of rubbing came again, this time from directly behind him, he eyed the sword at her feet.

 

_ Do it. _

 

…. _ What..sss..a...wassssste…. The dark lord...sss… won’t be happpppy...with you...ssss _

 

Tensing at the mention of Voldemort’s name, he knew he had already made a decision. 

 

Leaning over Hermione’s body, he pulled the sword towards him. The moment the metal made contact with his skin, the fire beneath his fingers began. 

 

“I am ready to die,” Draco croaked, watching out of the corner of his eye to see where the Basilisk lay.

 

_...Ex..sssss...cellent…  _ Using it’s nose as it’s guide, the creature dove head first towards Draco.

 

In one swift movement Draco slipped the ring onto his finger, and the sword into his palm. Once the ring was on he watched in awe, the space in front of him looked ethereal, time slowed. The sword was a painful reminder for what had to be done. 

 

Struggling to his feet, Draco watched in slow motion as the snake’s fangs came closer.

 

_ Only one shot.  _

 

_ 3… _

 

_ 2… _

 

_ 1… _

 

A surge of energy shot through Draco as soon as the Basilisk’s neck was close enough. He had to do this,  _ for her. _

 

Releasing a battle cry that contained all of his fear, heartbreak, hopes, and dreams of a future with her, he let himself go. 

  
  


In one fell swoop Draco raised his hand and dropped the sword.

 

Cutting the beast’s head  **clean off** .

 

Watching the Basilisk’s head roll back into the unknown depths of the cave’s waters only gave Draco a moment of relief. 

 

Turning back to look at Hermione and the wounds she had acquired, he felt his heart shatter. 

 

But he  _ knew what to do. _

 

____________________________________________________________

 

Hermione awoke hours later in Draco’s arms. His face bloody and his clothes tattered. He looked  _ exhausted _ . She watched his arms strain to hold her up.

 

Squirming, she tried to break free of his hold, he stopped her.

 

“Don’t,” he warned.

 

“Wh-y not?” her voice was still hoarse, what little poison Draco couldn’t suck out had to make it’s way through.

 

Glaring down at her he felt the muscles in his jaw clench, “Because I almost lost you today, and I don’t want you to leave my side for as long as I can help it. Does that answer suffice?” 

 

Nodding silently, she looked down between them, noticing his bandaged hand. 

 

“When were you going to tell me?”  

 

Flinching at the route the conversation was going he allowed her to sit on the grass, he didn’t know if she would want him to touch her again once she knew. 

 

“I am going to assume never is not an appropriate answer here?” 

 

Frowning, Hermione grabbed his bandaged hand, gently stroking the back of it, “I can’t pretend to understand  _ how  _ or  _ why  _ you are involved…” she cleared her throat. “But I do know, that if you were  _ truly  _ a follower of his, you would have let me die.”

 

A look of panic flashed in his eyes. Dropping to his knees he crawled closer to her, “Hermione, I would  _ never  _ let that happen,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I  _ can’t  _ let that happen.” 

 

She gave him a small smile, a genuine one that she had only shared with him once before, and he knew it. 

 

“I know… you gave it back,” she pulled the ring from her pocket, examining the dark artifact. “If you  _ truly _ were on his side you would have kept it and brought it to him… but you didn’t…. You gave it back.” 

 

“It’s yours until we get to Merlin’s Well,” Draco spoke quietly. Leaning gently into her shoulder he breathed a sigh of relief, “I am just so fucking thankful you are alive.” 

 

Hermione pulled his head away from her shoulder, cupping his face with her hands, “And I am thankful  _ for you,  _ Draco Malfoy,” before he could protest she brushed her lips against his, soft and delicate. 

 

Resting his hand under her chin, he peppered her face with kisses, his tears mixing with that of her own. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, a peaceful calm that they both relished in. 

 

As the sun slowly began to set, Draco picked Hermione back up, cradling her against his chest as he began to walk again. 

 

“You will have to tell me eventually, you know that right?” Hermione mumbled into his chest as sleepiness started to overtake her once more. 

 

“Of course I do,” Draco spoke solemnly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “But first, let’s go save your weird brothers.”

 

At this, Hermione laughed, “and kill a dark lord?” she asked.

 

“And kill a  _ motherfucking  _ Dark lord,” Draco promised. 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi guys! So it is finally done! This was my prompt for Strictly Dramione's Movie Fest! Special thanks to my lovely beta Ruin-Me-Dramione and my lovely alpha Odairriere! Without you ladies I would still be stuck. Honourable mentions to my three lovely friends Sarena, SlytherinMomma88, and ElleMalfoy65!
> 
> I had a lot of fun working on this, though unfortunately, I had to cut a lot from him as there was a lot build up before the actual "Dramione" aspect and I just wanted to treat my lovely friends ;) If you feel so inclined, reviews are much appreciated! xx This story imparticular had a lot of ways it could have turned out and I am definitely not opposed to the idea of eventually converting this to a WIP as the LoTR and Potterverse are some of my favourites! Alrighty, I will stop talking, haha. So, if you liked it or would like me to continue it, drop me a note! I would love to hear what you think! xx Next up is the next chapter of TOWH ;) Thanks lovelies! Have a lovely day/night wherever you are! - LittleMissEighty-Sixed


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